“You will owe me for this,” he said, though it was more a warning.

“What will I owe you?” Willow asked.

“Whatever I ask of you.”

“That could be anything,” she argued.

“You summoned me, therefore, you owe me.”

“I owe you nothing unless I agree, and your terms are unreasonable,” she argued.

“You summoned me, therefore, you owe me,” he repeated as if it was done and could not be undone.

Frustrated, Willow stepped toward the shadow, wanting to confront whoever hid in the shadows. There was no one there.

“I will collect my debt when the deed is done.”

The foreboding voice seemed to be carried on the falling snow as it fell around her, and she shivered at what that debt might be. But did it matter? As long as her husband was safe, that was all that mattered. Besides, she refused to believe she had just spoken to a demon. It had been a man. A man who she would negotiate with when the deed was done, if it was done.

She hurried off, even more eager to speak with her husband, though she wondered if it was wise to tell him. Though, it might be unwise not to. She would have to think about it.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

Willow jumped, her hand flying to her chest.” “You frightened me, Walcott.”

“The snowstorm is too nasty, the night too late for you to be out here alone,” he warned. “Danger lurks in the dark.”

“I appreciate the warning, Walcott. I’ll be in the safety of the keep in a few short steps. And you should be sleeping. You leave at sunrise.”

“I am fine. Hurry and be safe,” he said.

She rushed off, feeling a bit unnerved, thinking it strange that Walcott had suddenly shown up. Could he be the Slayer? Just as that thought caught her, she caught sight of a cloaked figure running to the keep. He was hunched over. Did he disguise his true height? He made his way around the back of the keep toward the kitchen.

Willow hurried to follow him, wondering if it was the Slayer. She stopped abruptly when she turned the corner of the keep and found no one there. Where had the figure disappeared to so fast?

She entered through a door near the kitchen, hung her cloak on a peg, and left her healing basket on a chest to retrieve later. She took guarded steps, peering suspiciously at any nook or cranny she passed and turned corners with caution. If the cloaked figure had entered here, he could be lurking anywhere in wait. Or had it been someone simply returning to the keep?

She finally entered the Great Hall and cast a quick glance around to find it empty, the only sound the crackle and pop of the fire burning strongly in the hearth.

“Looking for me?” came the whispery voice behind her.

She gasped and turned with such haste that she stumbled and fell against her husband.